Surf God of Malibu

Dear readers, I am humbled that literally thousands of you read "Surf God of Malibu" and I am very sorry that it has taken me so long to record part 2 of this reminiscence. It follows immediately on the first tale, and you really must them in order--JamesonX

I awoke three times that night. The first time I was strangely conscious that I was all alone in my little beach shack, and I thought about the way Jacob had left so quickly after our wild hour —the ecstasy gone and him looking rather sheepish and clearly feeling a little foolish. I thought a little guiltily about how he had got all suddenly modest and how he had gone to dress behind the couch. He acted almost apologetic, as if it had all been his doing, even though I was the one who took it so far.

Beyond the embarrassment, he was no doubt feeling a little afraid of me. I mean, I had acted like an animal. Clearly he'd wanted it, but did that give me the right to take things to the limit? All that pushing him up against the wall of the shower? Good Lord...It probably wasn't right to take advantage of a moment like that, a relationship like that...and hey, maybe there was some responsibility in being a teacher, even a goddam surf teacher. If you were a teacher of any kind, you probably weren't supposed to fuck your students in the ass, even if they were grown men and wanted it. Even if there had been an inestimable joy in it. Even if it had been a sweet and necessary moment. Maybe it was against professional ethics or something.

I'd also just pulled him out of the surf like a wet puppy...and as I tossed and turned, I thought how maybe you probably weren't supposed to, well, let someone who's life you just saved suck your cock.

The whole thing had felt wicked good, that much was sure. As far as the gay thing went, I wasn't much concerned. I was not, after all, actually

gay

. And so what if I had a good time fucking a man in the ass? I fucked a man! Laying there in the dark, I had to smile. I remembered again the complete abandon I felt as I held his tight little hips and pumped his ass. Damn! That was good. Then I remembered how I'd kissed him on the forehead and on the lips, even. Why did that part happen? It just seemed like the right thing to do, our being so close in that moment and all. It wasn't like I was in love with the little guy. "

Am

I gay?" I thought. And then I shrugged, and tried saying "whatever." And I fell back asleep.

The second time I woke, I was in a strange panic. It was about 1 a.m. The wind had picked up off the ocean, and the rain had returned, and a couple surfboards I'd laid against the wall outside were creaking against one another. There was a bang as one fell, and I called out "Jacob? Is that you?" It was silly. How could that be Jacob? Now I was worried about him driving back home to his bitchy little wife and no-doubt huge pristine house in fucking Bel Air. Would he succumb to the absurd irony of it all? Have some dark moment? Do something stupid?

"Honey, how was your day?" I imagined him saying to the bitchy wife. "Oh, glad to hear you had a nice lunch with your yoga instructor. That's funny, I had a special event with my surf instructor today. After he saved my life out on a wild ocean in the fog, I knelt in the rain and sucked his dick, and then I let him take me into the shower and fuck me in the ass. Don't worry, he didn't charge me any extra."

After that conversation, maybe Jacob would shoot himself. I actually obsessed with that for a while: You know the thoughts that run through your head in the middle of the night. I thought about calling him, just to make sure he was okay, but it was 1 a.m., and he was with the wife.

And then I felt stupid for worrying about him at all. I mean, wasn't I the

Surf God?

Wasn't "crazy" what I

did every day?

Even if I usually did it with women? "Better he should get out of here fast," I said to myself. "Better he should just go, after all that." But I have to admit it took me a little longer to fall asleep. For a while, I thought about hunting down some wine or something, but it seemed like too much trouble, and then I was out.

The third time I awoke, it was probably going on four, and I was immediately conscious of two things. First, the wind had died and the moon had come out. Second, I was not alone in my bed anymore. A warm body was close by under the covers, and there was the distinct sound of another person breathing. Strange. Was this a dream? Or was it still Tuesday night, and was that Cindy breathing next to me? Had the

whole intervening day

been a dream?

I reached out a tentative hand, and found an arm. It didn't seem like Cindy's arm at all.

Then I sat up and pulled back the covers a little to see in the moonlight. The hair on the pillow was black, and I was pretty sure Cindy was a blond. Still, it was a familiar form curled up, facing away from me. It also seemed to be nude.

"Mmmm," said a voice which was clearly not Cindy's voice, either.

"Jacob?"

"Shhh. Just sleep. Please," came the reply.

"No shit?"

"Shhhh."

"Well goddam," I said, and got back under the covers, and turned the other way, and felt strangely relaxed, and fell right back to sleep.

I didn't wake up until about 10 in the morning, and I could see through the window that all the clouds had blown past and it was bright outside. I could hear the surf, so I knew that the universe had not completely done a backflip. Still, there was another sound in the shack that did not belong. Someone was humming. And there was an unfamiliar smell—someone was cooking.

"Shitfire," I said, but there was no reply.

I looked around the one room of my little shack and there was a man, almost certainly Jacob, with his back turned to me, and he was cooking something on the stove, probably eggs. He was wearing a white dress shirt and apparently nothing else. The shirt was long, and expensive, but the tail of it barely covered his ass.

"Good Lord," I said. "You really are here."

"I decided to make breakfast," was all he said.

"So...Jacob. Aren't you supposed to be at work or something? The law firm? Suing people or something?"

"I told them I'd be working from home today." He turned then and looked at me with a kind of neutral and expectant look, and there was a long moment. You could see he was wondering if I would throw him out or maybe hit him. When I didn't do anything, he turned back to the eggs. The whole next speech was made with his back to me, probably because it was so intense. I stayed in the bed and listened.

"This is the most dangerous thing I've ever done in my life, but I'm doing it."

"Okay," I said. "Is there coffee?"

"In a minute. I drove all the way home last night, and I walked into my house around ten. Alison was asleep upstairs but the house wasn't quiet, because of the storm. I stood there a long time and I realized that I didn't live there anymore. I just didn't fucking live there anymore. Okay, I knew that if I stayed and went to work the next day and the day after that—well, I could re-adapt. I could become

that

Jacob again and probably forget all about

this

Jacob, and be miserable again. I could do that. But then I remembered that yesterday, when you made love to me, when you

took

me in the shower...well, that was the only real joy I ever felt in my life. The only complete joy I ever felt. And I knew I had to try coming back here. I knew I had to try and see how long you would let me stay. Even if you only let me stay for a day or an hour. And if you threw me out, then, okay, I would go back. I would go back and become the old Jacob again. But it was worth the chance. It was worth the bare chance of you letting me stay for a while. So around one I left Alison a note saying I'd been called out of town for a deposition. Then I started driving back and I got here around two. The door was unlocked. I don't think the lock even works."

"Jacob, you're not wearing any pants."

"That's true. I thought you might enjoy that. It was a kind of ploy, I suppose. To entice you."

"You don't know if I'm a complete jerk or what. You hardly know me."

"That's true, too."

"It could be that I'd beat you up or something. Regret that I lost control, etc., etc."

"You could. But I don't think you'd do that. Last night you kissed me. On the forehead several times, and on the lips at least once. Even in the midst of all that wild fucking."

"Did I really?" He turned and we looked at each other again. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged, waiting for me to make the next move. So I rolled out of bed and found my jeans, and pulled them on.

I thought I'd better say it: "I'm really not gay, you know. I like fucking women a lot. I always have. The whole Surf God sign over the door—that's about me and women. And it works. I sleep with women probably three times a week. Sometimes three different women."

"No doubt." I noticed he hadn't shaved. I noticed his eyes were red from lack of sleep. We just looked at each other for a while, until I had to say something.

I said, "Jacob, at eleven o'clock this lady Bonnie something is coming with her daughter and a couple of her girlfriends for a surfing lesson. You have to put some clothes on before that, and act normal."

"Okay. I'll just stay inside. I have work I can do on my laptop. Do you have internet here?"

"No."

And then he served out the eggs and bacon on my only two plates, along with toast he'd made over the gas fire since I don't own a toaster. And there was coffee, too. And he sat opposite me at my little table in his white lawyer shirt, and it seemed almost

natural.

"No one ever made me breakfast, before," was all I said as I ate. "I appreciate that. It's really good, in fact. How do you keep the eggs from getting all dry?"

"Not a problem," said Jacob, and started telling me about how to cook the goddam eggs, as if I were really interested in the question.

Finally I said, "you know it's not normal to not wear pants when another person is eating breakfast with you."

"I explained that part already," he said. "I want to entice you. Maybe you'll fuck me again."

"Good grand gracious almighty," I said, and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms across my chest. "What am I going to do here?" Then, "Jesus," I said, "My dick

is

getting hard."

He didn't say anything.

"Stand up for a second, will you?" I said.

"Sure." And he stood up. I looked at his dangling dick, hanging out beneath the white shirt. I noticed that he had a lot of dark hair on his thighs, running up into his pubic hair.

"Turn around."

And he turned around. I looked at his tight little ass, half-hidden, but also a little on the hairy side.

"Let me just think a minute," I said. But a powerful sensation gripped my whole body.

"Don't think about it," he said. "Just do it."

So I stood up and pushed back my chair, and the creaking of it sounded like a gunshot. Then I walked over and reached around and grabbed his dick with my left hand and with my right hand I scooped up some margarine that he was going to use to butter the toast, and I reached into his butt crack and smeared it all over the back of his ass, way up in there, pushing a couple fingers into his asshole. I tried not to be rough, but he gasped.

"You sure you want this?" I asked.

"Are you ever going to stop talking?" he said huskily. "I thought you were the Surf God."

So I turned him a little, and gently pushed him over the table, where he laid his hands flat. He planted his legs firmly on the floor and lifted his butt up for me. Then I unzipped my jeans, and pulled my big cock out of my fly, and smeared more of the margarine on myself—hardening much more now, and quickly, even fisting myself to make it harden quicker.

Then I paused. Or tried to pause. "I feel like a goddam animal," I said, barely able to talk. "Maybe it's not right to feel this way."

"It's right. Just do it," he said. "Please do it." In my left hand, his dick was hardening, hardening, hardening, like some kind of miracle.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jacob. I need to think about this."

"Don't think," he said.

And I pressed the helmet of my dick against his asshole, just a tiny bit, feeling the warmth and the butter and the pressure.

"I need to be gentle," I said, "or I'll hurt you."

"Don't worry," he said again. "Don't think. I'm sick of thinking. I've been thinking my whole life. And don't be gentle. I'm sick of gentle, too. That's why I came back, because you weren't gentle at all last night. Because you completely—"

And then I eased my dick in a little. And then suddenly and maybe a little roughly, I pushed in further, further, further. And he shouted out something I couldn't understand, and in my left hand I felt his own, now thick dick begin to pulse and tremble and he suddenly came and came, all over the table, the plates, everything, bracing himself with his hands. I stopped thrusting as he came, and I let him come without me moving, really, just holding his dick till he was done. Something inarticulate came out of his mouth, and I think something inarticulate came from my own mouth. And I might have kissed him on the neck.

"Holy shit," I said, and I took just a couple gentle movements with my hips and just like that I came too, spurting hard and fast into his ass, feeling it fill and tighten around me. And I wrapped both my arms around his chest, enjoying how damp it was with sweat, and I bear-hugged him, and I said "fuck, fuck, fuck" until I subsided. I kind of wanted to apologize for it all happening so fast again. But I could not say anything else. And I was breathing so hard.

"Peter—" he began, but at that very moment, just as I felt I was slipping into some kind of waking dream, there came a knock on the door. I looked at the clock, and it was 11:10. Shit, it must be Bonnie Something and her crew. Could they see in through the window in the door? Maybe, if they tried hard enough. But probably not, it being all bright and sunny outside.

"Hey there! Is that Bonnie" I called in a strange, strangled voice. Then I controlled myself so I could use my regular voice. "Just a second. Be there in a second" croaked the Surf God. And I disengaged, and shoved my still-engorged cock a little painfully down into my jeans, and I became aware that Jacob was panting loud and fast, still leaning over the table on his hands, with his butt sticking out of his white shirt, leaking my cum. "Can you sort of disappear behind the bed? Would you do that, Jacob? I'd really appreciate it. I'm sorry. But it's..."

"I don't know if I can move," he said.

"You really need to move. Otherwise, I think they'll know we just fucked, and they'll think I'm gay and it will ruin my whole business. Try for me, okay?"

"Okay, okay," said the young and normally articulate lawyer, and dragged himself up and off and laughed a little laugh, and laid down on the floor behind the bed so he could not be seen from the front door in my little one room surf shack on the beach.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"It's okay," he replied.

"Fuck," I said, and remembered who I was. Actually it took me another minute. I had to stretch myself out like a tiger, and run my fingers through my hair, and put a smile on my face, and rub my magnificent pecs. At last I walked over to the door, and flung it wide open, and stretched again in the sunlight, all shirtless, buff, 6'3" of me, just to give them the whole Surfing/Sex God effect.

"Hey Ladies. Ready to surf?"

Bonnie Kramer was about 50, tanned with leathery skin and sun-bleached hair. She still looked good in a white bikini. Behind her stood three women in their early twenties, boobs barely contained by their own bikinis, and gaping at me. No doubt they had dressed carefully for this moment. No doubt they had registered the hand-painted "Surf God" sign over the door—and now here I was, in the flesh. Probably the very smell of sex wafted right out into the salt air, as well. For all they knew, I had just banged a female surfing student, and not a young male lawyer at all. This gave me comfort.

I squinted up into the sun. "Nice day," I said.

Bonnie looked me up and down. Probably I looked like shit. My hair was probably a mess, and my own eyes were probably red from lack of sleep, and I probably had margarine on my jeans, etc. "Maybe we should give you a few minutes," she said dryly.

"No. I'm ready to roll. The water's been super warm, so no suits needed. Let's get wet, women."

"Good Lord," said the one who looked just like Bonnie and was no doubt the 21-year-old daughter. Her name was Jeanine.

"Have you surfed before?" I asked Jeanine.

"No," she said, and I could see she was trying to look past me into the shack. "My first time, I'm afraid. Your kitchen's a mess."

"Always good to start with a big one, the first time. The surfboard, I mean. Easier to handle. Always know where it is underneath you."

"Right," she said. And her friends laughed, and I gave them a big Surf God smile.

Malibu! I thought. What a great place to be alive.

-------

The lesson went fine. An easy, well-shaped surf. A lot of flirting with the well-boobed, early-twenties womenfolk, seemingly encouraged by Bonnie. Every now and then I would glance back at the shack to see if Jacob would appear, but he did not. I knew he hadn't snuck off, because the Boxster was still parked up on the highway.

Around three, Vince and two of the other guys from the surf school showed up with beers. I remembered that I had actually invited them, since I knew I'd have three or four women on hand. We set up in the shade of some rocks to while away the afternoon until the sunset. Jeanine plopped down next to me and asked if she could feel the muscles on my arms (which were indeed pretty mighty). I smiled a shaggy blonde, unshaven Surf God smile at her and let her feel my muscles and then I felt her muscles, etc., and everyone laughed, and I felt like all was pretty much back to normal in the world. It was a little cool out, but none of us put on any clothes over our bathing suits.

Around four, when I shot a nervous look up toward the shack, I saw a truck from a cable company pull up and start unloading some spools of wire. Shit, what was that about? Jacob appeared once or twice to talk to them. A little later, a truck from a furniture company came, and some big piece of furniture got unloaded. I decided to ignore the situation and focus on Janine. Vince, who knows how to focus in on any potential source of income, focused his attention on middle-aged Bonnie. His buddy Al produced a guitar, as he usually does in situations like this.

Finally, at seven, just as the sun was getting low on the horizon, Jacob ambled down to the beach carrying a beer. By now I was pretty toasted and nestled comfortably in Janine's skinny little arms. I gave Jacob a big smug smile.

"Hey everybody, meet Jacob. He's one of my students. He's trying to prove that lawyers can be taught to surf."

Everyone laughed, and Jacob smiled a weak smile and sat directly across from me in the circle, just looking at me. He took off his shirt, even though as I mentioned, it was getting a might chilly out. I noticed again that he also had a lot of black hair around his taut little pecs. A kind of Middle Eastern chin that he had just shaved. The conversation continued—some stupidity about how to fend off sharks. Jacob even joined in, but the most important dialogue was the unspoken one between just the two of us—like, whole volumes of unspoken dialog. Shit. I started to feel uncomfortable in Janine's arms, but just to make a point I pulled her down for a little kiss, right there in front of both her mother and my would-be gay lover.

"You are a little bold, Surf God," laughed Bonnie.